The Love Charm
by ripnik
Summary: Sam has some unexplained feelings, Frodo investigates the reason why. *Slash*


Title: The Love Charm  
  
Author: ripnik  
  
completed: mostly  
  
Characters: Frodo/Sam  
  
Rating: R  
  
Slash: you bet  
  
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these characters. I don't and make no  
  
money. The story is my own fault. All mistakes are mine.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please. Thank you very much for any and all  
  
suggestions.  
  
Frodo sighed heavily. He had been feeling a bit depressed lately and had decided to take his morning's work to the large desk in the front room. That way he hoped the view of his lovely gardener--*garden* (he throttled that first thought firmly)--would lift his spirits somewhat. Sighing again, he admitted to himself that he was indeed hoping to see Sam working and wasn't disappointed when the sturdy, handsome young hobbit strode into view, sleeves rolled up, collar open, pushing a wheelbarrow full of mulch for the perennial beds across from the window. Frodo sighed a third time.  
  
In fact, Frodo was a bit concerned about Sam. For the last two weeks, since Merry and Pippin had left, Sam had been acting differently toward him. They had always enjoyed an easy, comfortable friendship, despite their class differences. But the joking and smiles had vanished for some reason and Sam appeared to be increasingly uncomfortable around him. Strangely, though, Frodo began to notice that recently Sam was finding numerous opportunities to touch him, all seemingly innocent and accidental. Also, during the last few days, Frodo would glance up from his work or chores to find Sam standing nearby at unexpected times, just looking at him with an intense expression in his eyes. It seemed that whatever was going on was escalating.  
  
Frodo realized that the loss of his easy companionship with Sam and the unknown cause of this situation were the sources of his depression. He searched his memory for anything he may have said or done that might warrant this change in his friend but he could come up with nothing. Ever since Frodo had become aware of his true feelings for the younger hobbit, he had tried to be extremely careful never to show any indication of them and subdued his feelings with an iron control. He was not willing to jeopardize his friendship with Sam for all the pipeweed in South Farthing. And he was absolutely certain that if he declared himself to Sam, it would be the last time he would ever see him. So he kept his knowledge to himself and yearned unrequited in silence, alone.  
  
Frodo looked up from the notes he had been staring at sightlessly for the last few minutes to gaze around distractedly. He noticed some of the numerous small touches throughout the room that spoke loudly of his talented gardener's presence. Sam had thoughtfully arranged the curtain in such a way as to block the bright sun's rays from Frodo's work, but at the same time allowing perfect illumination throughout the room. Then there were the early spring flowers Sam had arranged nearby in his favorite vase. Glancing into the kitchen, Frodo saw the fixings for second breakfast already laid out beautifully and heavenly smells of baking bread were wafting from the oven. Frodo smiled and counted his blessings that he had at least *this* much of Sam to enjoy. It was much better than nothing.  
  
He looked down at his work to see that the ink from his quill had leaked out, making a huge mess on the parchment in front of him and was working its way toward his shirtsleeve. He jerked his hand back just in time and went in search of an old cloth to blot the ink. After cleaning up, he began to industriously scrape the ink from the parchment when he noticed the cessation of sounds from the garden. Sam wasn't visible from where he was seated, but the wheelbarrow full of mulch was still there in front of the window with the pitchfork stuck in it. Getting up and going to the window, Frodo leaned out and looked to either side of the smial. He couldn't see Sam anywhere. *How strange* thought Frodo. Possibly Sam had just decided to get some water. Frodo had taken one step backward when he felt a warm presence right behind him. Alarmed, he spun around quickly, but stumbled a bit when he realized it was only Sam--a very intense looking Sam, who grabbed him by the arms as he fell backward.  
  
"Oh, Sam! It's just you! Thank you for your help-I'm just so clumsy sometimes!" Frodo laughed a bit and smiled warmly. He put his hands on Sam's shoulders in a friendly way to give him a quick pat, expecting to be released so he could go back to his desk. But Sam didn't release him.  
  
"Um. Sam?" Frodo pushed against Sam's shoulders, but it was like trying to move a very large rock. He looked up into his gardener's face. Sam was flushed as if with fever and his eyes appeared glazed and strange, like he was...  
  
"Sam, are you sick? Are you all right? " Frodo's face broke into a worried frown, bright blue eyes filled with concern as he reached up to feel Sam's cheek with the back of his hand. *Did he have a fever?* Sam's response shocked the older hobbit to the core-he captured Frodo's hand in his and began to nuzzle it, very sensuously. *What in the Shire...?*  
  
"Sam, stop it, please. What are you doing?" Frodo tried to tug the hand away, but Sam held it tighter as his intense eyes returned to Frodo's shocked face. "Sam, you're not drunk are you?" Frodo was horrified. *What has gotten into Sam?*  
  
"No sir, I'm not drunk--nor sick neither." Sam's words were slurred a bit and he kept fondling Frodo's hand, now placing soft kisses and licks onto his palm and fingers. The effects of these caresses were making themselves felt on Frodo rather insistently. Breathing seemed to be difficult suddenly. His knees were beginning to weaken and he felt tingles all up and down his limbs; tingles which crossed into a spine that was trying to turn into some type of gelatinous matter. His stomach was fluttering alarmingly and he wasn't certain, but it seemed his brain was close to shutting down as well. Before that happened however, he thought he should at least make a token effort to take charge of the situation. He pushed again against Sam's shoulder, this time with more force and spoke loudly, "Sam, what's gotten into you? You *must* be drunk if you're not sick. Stop it this instant!"  
  
Sam's response was to pull Frodo toward himself one handed, as if the older hobbit were no more than a child. Frodo resisted, but was no match for Sam's vastly superior strength. Before he knew it, he was being held in a very tight, close embrace and was totally helpless to do anything about it. Sam's flushed face filled his vision completely. Frodo's shock was quickly fading and turning into something like hope. He felt as if he were melting into a very warm puddle and his eyes involuntarily fluttered closed as Sam's lips came closer and finally touched his tenderly. As Sam tightened the embrace, Frodo found himself, to his immense surprise, being very skillfully and thoroughly kissed. *No, Sam certainly is not drunk and now where in Middle Earth had he learned to do that?* were the last coherent thoughts to enter his brain for a while as the blood flow began to be redirected elsewhere. A small, half-hearted protest escaped his lips as they broke the kiss for air, then Sam dived back in, using his tongue and lips with equal skill. Frodo quivered and trembled in response to Sam's touch, not caring anymore what he was doing now that his brain had totally ceased to function. Involuntarily, his arms wound sensuously around Sam's neck, fingers entangled themselves in sandy locks and his body pressed wantonly against Sam as he began to give as good as he was getting.  
  
Without warning, Sam broke the kiss and pushed Frodo away from him. Stunned, Frodo stumbled backward and almost pitched out of the open window. The only thing that kept him from falling outside was managing to crack the back of his head against the wooden surround of the window. He almost went blind from the pain. "OWOWOW!" Holding the back of his head with both hands, he stumbled over to his chair and sat down hard.  
  
"Sam! What is going on?" Frodo was in too much pain at first to notice Sam sitting hunched over on the padded bench, crying and moaning. When he stopped seeing spots and was able to focus on the fact that Sam had not answered him, he realized that the younger hobbit was sobbing his heart out.  
  
"Oh, Sam! What's wrong?" Frodo squinted at Sam, eyes filled with pain- induced tears and considerable sexual frustration. The pounding in his head was intensifying now that some blood flow was restored. His higher brain functions were late in returning, however.  
  
"Mr. Frodo! I'm so sorry! I.. I didn't mean to defile you or nothin'! Please don't send me away!" Sam's sobs were shockingly wild. Frodo let go of the back of his head and sat up straighter.  
  
"Sam, I..." Frodo wasn't allowed to finish. Sam sprang up and began to pace back and forth, running his hands through his hair and pulling at it in an alarming manner.  
  
"Bewitched, Mr. Frodo. I've been charmed! That's all I can think of to explain this! I wouldn't never dream-well, I did-but I wouldn't never actually *do* anything like that if I weren't charmed!"  
  
Frodo shook his head in confusion and was immediately sorry. He was having trouble focusing his vision and his brain wasn't at full capacity yet. All he could say was, "What?"  
  
"Mr. Frodo, I think I've been charmed, sir. That's the only thing that can explain my shameful, awful behavior. I'm so very sorry, sir." Sam's face was full of anguish as he paced restlessly across the length of the room.  
  
Frodo's brain finally re-engaged itself but was still incredibly confused. "Well, um, now Sam, you're being a bit hard on yourself. What you did was not awful and I don't feel exactly 'defiled.' What in Middle Earth makes you think that you've been charmed?" he started to rub the back of his head again and grimaced in pain a bit.  
  
Sam noticed Frodo's discomfort despite his distracted state and stopped his pacing behind Frodo's chair. He murmured, "Oh, my dear. Did you hurt yourself, sir?" Incredibly talented fingers were suddenly gently rubbing the back of Frodo's head, immediately finding the exact bruised spot and actually taking away the pain somewhat. Frodo leaned into the touch with an unconscious sigh of relief. As he did that, Sam began to work magic down the back of his neck, and onto his shoulders. He could feel the heat of Sam's body behind him as the massaging fingers returned to his head. Sam stroked the sides of his face, pulling Frodo's head back to rest against his chest, working down the muscles below the ears to the sensitive base of the throat, then sliding under the collar of his shirt. Breathing had become difficult again and Frodo had just decided that his bones must have completely dissolved when Sam abruptly let go, causing Frodo to almost fall out of his chair. Pain shot through his head, making him groan.  
  
"I'm sorry sir, you just can't trust me! That's what I'm trying to tell you! Oh, I've tried to defile you once again!" Sam was in tears once more.  
  
Frodo was starting to get angry but he saw how distressed Sam actually was and blew out his breath in exasperation instead of yelling at him. "Sam! Please calm down and stop crying! There's that 'defile' word again! What are you talking about?"  
  
Sam stood in front of his master, shifting from foot to foot, looking miserable, but he did stop crying. "Sir, it started two weeks ago after Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin left. Ever since then I've had this nearly uncontrollable urge to.. well, you know. I've always been able to control these feelings before and I fought 'em as best I could sir, so as not to dishonor you, but I can't seem to do it no more. The harder I fight, the stronger the feelings grow. I can't do nothin' but think about you all the time and the things I want to do.. " Sam stopped and cleared his throat, flushing with embarrassment.  
  
"Sam, move over there, and please sit down on those amazing hands of yours." He directed his gardener back to the padded bench near the hearth and pulled his chair up close by. "Look at me, please." Sam sniffed and raised his eyes to Frodos' concerned face. "I am not upset with you and I will never send you away." Sam's expression relaxed gratefully. "Now let me see if I understand what you are telling me. You have had feelings for me." Sam nodded vigorously. Frodo felt his heartbeat quicken and his mouth became dry as he realized what he was saying, but he kept himself under rigid control. "But you've been able to keep these.. feelings... bottled up until two weeks ago. So what you're saying is that the only thing that could make you want to do..um. .those things..with me," Frodo cleared his throat, "..was some type of supernatural outside force?" Sam nodded again, and Frodo found himself feeling somewhat hurt.  
  
"Yes, sir. I think it's a love charm. This feeling is so strong; it's the only thing that makes sense." Sam tone was firm.  
  
"A love charm." Frodo repeated, skeptically, definitely feeling absurdly hurt.  
  
"An Elvish love charm, sir. They do magic and suchlike."  
  
"An *Elvish* love charm?" Frodo was annoyed. He let out another breath in exasperation. "Sam, think for just a moment about how ridiculous that sounds! Elves don't really *do* magic, they just are magic. At least, I think so." Suddenly, Frodo wasn't so sure.  
  
"Well, how do you know, sir, if you haven't checked?" Sam's rather cheeky question sounded stubborn. He then gazed beseechingly at Frodo and begged, "Please sir, would you look in your books to see if there's *any* mention of something like this?"  
  
When Sam looked at him like that it was impossible to refuse him anything. "All right Sam. I'll check. If you'll help me with these books... on second thought, maybe you should do something else, in another room preferably. We still haven't had second breakfast and the bread is almost done. This may take me awhile." It took until after lunch, in fact, before Frodo found a reference to any kind of charm in his Elvish texts.  
  
"Sam, I found something." Frodo called out to his friend from the window in the front room. It was mid afternoon and the younger hobbit had gone back to work in the garden, spreading mulch in the perennial beds. He came in flushed and warm from his work, eager to see what Frodo had discovered. Frodo tried not to look at him with too much longing as he poured Sam a glass of cool water and asked him to sit on the padded bench again.  
  
"It appears from this text on Elvish culture-which is a copy of a much older book from the early part of the third age-- that the Elves actually did do a small amount of magic. And the only type of charm they did was indeed a love charm. I have no idea how you knew this, but you were right, Sam." Frodo couldn't read his friend's closed expression and went back to his translated notes. "From what I can gather it was made to help whomever had the charm in his possession or domicile find and claim his or her true love. The charm is supposed to look like an orange glowing rock as it's activated. When the true love was exposed to the charm's influence, a compulsion was put onto that person." Sam was nodding. "They would have to declare themselves to their true love or the compulsion would become overwhelming. The more they resist, the stronger the compulsion becomes and eventually they cannot resist any longer. It sounds rather gruesome. However, Sam, according to this, it only works if one of the principals, preferably both, is of Elvish descent. And I don't see any Elves around here."  
  
Frodo looked at Sam narrowly. He wasn't surprised; in fact Sam seemed like he'd just had his worst fears confirmed.  
  
"What do you know that you're not telling me? Sam, if there were such a thing, how could it have gotten here?"  
  
Sam squirmed under Frodo's gaze, wouldn't meet his eyes for a moment, and then mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Mr. Pippin".  
  
"What was that, Sam? Pippin told you about Elvish love charms? Did he bring something here?"  
  
Sam still wouldn't meet his eyes but nodded. "It was somethin' he said. He. . was very convincing, sir." Sam looked even more stubborn than before, if possible.  
  
Frodo squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, closed his eyes for a long moment and sighed explosively. He seemed to be doing that a lot today, he realized. "All right Sam. Let's start at the beginning."  
  
"Well, sir, it all started when we went to the Inn, on the last night Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin was visiting. They decided last minute not to go with us but insisted we go on without them. Surely you remember that sir?"  
  
Some vague, hazy memories began to surface about that evening. Frodo was ashamed to realize things were a bit of a blur and he couldn't remember exactly why. He brightened as he remembered that he had been in a foul mood for some reason, and made an encouraging noise so Sam would continue.  
  
"I noticed you were in a bit of a temper but we went and had dinner anyway. Then you started drinking brandy. I keep telling you that stuff's no good for you, but you won't listen to me." Sam sounded perturbed, looking hard at his master. Frodo suddenly realized why the evening had seemed such a blur.  
  
"After your *third* brandy you started reciting poetry about unrequited love--in Elvish."  
  
Frodo felt his cheeks heat up alarmingly. "You... you understood the Elvish?"  
  
"Most of it, I did, sir. You taught me yourself." Sam cocked a dubious eyebrow at Frodo who continued to blush furiously. "Anyways, when you started to glare at Rosie and mutter under your breath, I knew it was time to take you home. When we got to the gate you wouldn't walk up the steps and made me carry you."  
  
Frodo sat up straighter and exclaimed "I did not! I wouldn't do something like that!" He didn't think his cheeks could feel any warmer, but they started to positively burn.  
  
Sam shook his head and said, deadly serious, "You did, Mr. Frodo. I carried you up them stairs and you kept playin' with my hair. You wouldn't stop until we got into the hallway here. And that's when we saw them." Sam was looking at Frodo as if he expected some type of response.  
  
Frodo could recall nothing to respond to. "Um. Well, Sam, just assume I wasn't there and please keep telling the story."  
  
Sam raised his brows again. "I guess you really wasn't there, come to think of it. So here I am, standing in the front hallway with you, three sheets to the wind, giggling in my arms-yes, you was giggling, Mr. Frodo, I was there. You was giggling and squirmin' a bit and then we see Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin, lyin' asleep together on the rug in front of the hearth here, both naked as the day they was born, clothes scattered everywhere. You started to laugh and pointed at them, which woke them up. I just stood there in shock and didn't even think to put you down. Then you called me a prude and kissed my ear. And you used your tongue, Mr. Frodo," Sam said accusingly. Frodo had nothing to say so he kept silent, eyes wide and rather horrified.  
  
"That's when I put you down. Mr. Merry had dressed himself by this time, but Mr. Pippin was still naked and sitting on the bench here. You started to go back to the bathroom to get sick like you always do and I started to go with you, but Mr. Pippin insisted Mr. Merry help you as he wanted to talk to me. So Mr. Pippin asks me, he says: "Are you shocked, Sam?" And I tells him, no, not really, I sort of expected that kind of thing from him. I was a bit shocked at Mr. Merry, though I didn't tell him, because I thought he had better sense. Anyways, Mr. Pippin starts smiling at me and says as best as I can recollect: "Well, you know Sam, true love transcends gender and even race. Did you know that Frodo and I both share some Elvish blood from many generations back?" And I says I didn't know any such thing and it seemed rather unlikely as Mr. Frodo had never told me nothing like that. Mr. Pippin says that you probably didn't know about it either and he only found out for sure recently himself. Seems something really old turned up in some dusty parts of Great Smials and he said that I'd be "charmed" to know what it was. And wouldn't I "truly love" to see it. He kept sayin' things like that and I didn't put it together until now. After they left, I started feeling.. . well, like I told you. So that's the story, Mr. Frodo. I still think there's got to be a love charm somewhere hid about."  
  
Frodo sat back, bemused. *He had Elvish blood? How in the world could Pip have confirmed something like that?* There *had* been rumors in the family going back for many years and Bilbo had mentioned it a time or two, but Frodo never for a moment thought it could be true. But then he would have to admit that such a love charm existed, which he knew was preposterous!  
  
Sam seemed convinced, however and was growing agitated that Frodo did not believe him. "All right, Sam. We'll look for your love charm. If it's here it shouldn't be too hard to find. According to the book it looks like a small rock with a rune written on it. It's supposed to glow orange until the true love declares himself. Let's start looking."  
  
Starting from the wine cellar, the two hobbits searched the entire smial from top to bottom. It took the rest of the afternoon. By dinnertime, the two of them met once more in the front room, tired, hungry and a bit dusty from all the searching.  
  
Sam was sitting on the padded bench again and, without thinking, Frodo threw himself down beside him, exhausted. Sam had added some wood to the fire in the hearth and the warmth was comforting. He had also found time to set out a cold supper and handed Frodo something to eat.  
  
"I didn't find anything remotely resembling a love charm in any way, shape or form. It appears you've not had any success either. I'm sorry, Sam. I looked everywhere. If there were anything like that to find, I think we would have found it. However, I did find that umbrella Lobelia swore I'd stolen. She was right-I am a thief! " Sam didn't seem amused by Frodo's lame attempt at levity. In fact he was downright depressed and hanging his head.  
  
Frodo swallowed the last of his supper and sighed for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. "Sam, what's the matter? Why the long face?"  
  
"I don't know what to say, Mr. Frodo. I was ashamed of my feelings, I suppose.. I. .I thought that if there was a love charm causing them, it would explain it all. Then you wouldn't be angry and send me away. The charm could be gotten rid of somehow and then everything would be back to the way it was before. That were a fantasy though, weren't it? Everything's out of the box now and can't be fit back in." Frodo could think of no other reply than to place a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeeze gently. The younger hobbit turned his face to Frodo and whispered sadly. "I guess real life is much more complicated, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, I suppose it is." Frodo replied, heart sinking. They sat in silence for a while before Frodo spoke again. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm sorry that you're ashamed of your feelings for me." *Do you really want to get rid of those feelings?* He was terribly afraid to ask that and wasn't exactly sure how to continue. Sam was just sitting there, looking very lost and vulnerable.  
  
As he gazed in longing at Sam, an idea formed in his brain. While he considered this idea, Frodo felt abject terror begin to rise from the center of his being. So before it took complete control, he plunged ahead with what he decided to say, risking everything. He'd betrayed himself in such an embarrassing way already; it was hard to imagine he could make it much worse.  
  
"Let's think about this for a moment, Sam. When you kissed me earlier today, did I seem to you to be disgusted or upset with you?"  
  
Sam's expression was chagrined. "At first you seemed a bit upset, but later- -no, not really. Not at all, actually." His face brightened at the thought and hope began to creep into his eyes.  
  
"All right. Good. We've established that I am not angry with you. I don't credit that there is a love charm here to explain your feelings. Could there be anything else *not* of a supernatural origin that might explain them?" Frodo knew he was dangerously close to whining and stopped to let Sam respond.  
  
Sam looked as if he'd never considered the idea before. "Well, maybe. It's possible. But why did all this start two weeks ago if Mr. Pippin didn't leave a love charm hidden hereabouts?"  
  
"Let's be clear. From what you've told me, the feelings started some time before Merry and Pip's visit--they just became stronger beginning two weeks ago. Now, when you saw Merry and Pip together as lovers, was it the first time it occurred to you to think that such a thing could be? Love between two lads, that is?"  
  
"Why, sir, I'd heard of such a thing before, but never in what you might say as a nice way. Maybe that's why I felt ashamed of my feelings for you." Sam bit his lip and looked uncertainly up at Frodo. "But the reality of it, no. I mean-it was nice. They love each other very much. It didn't seem sordid or depraved at all, like Ted Sandyman says. I felt happy for them." Sam's voice was soft with a bit of hesitation and wonder combined. Frodo smiled warmly at Sam.  
  
"Sam, no sincere love of any kind can ever be sordid and depraved. I'm surprised you listened to anything that Ted Sandyman had to say!" Frodo took any sting out of his words by giving Sam's shoulder another squeeze. "Now, let's continue. It's my theory that seeing Merry and Pip together as lovers may have given you license to express your feelings toward me. Since you had repressed them for so long, maybe they seemed too strong and uncontrollable. So it appears to me that your emotions must be genuine and not coerced, if expressed rather forcefully." Sam nodded slowly and thoughtfully as Frodo cleared his throat, fighting down competing feelings of exhilaration and dread.  
  
"Now let's assume, totally for the sake of argument, that the love charm really *does* exist, that it's hidden somewhere around here and that I descend from Elves somehow. So then this charm starts to work it's magic. You start to feel a strong compulsion to be with me and fought it, but were unable to resist. If you believe what the book says about this charm, then it means it that you..um.. must be my true love. Basically it comes back to the same thing. It doesn't matter whether the charm exists or not-your feelings just are what they are, and regardless, they are still valid and genuine."  
  
Sam looked a bit lost at the convoluted argument and sat thinking for a moment, brow furrowed. "So.. does that mean you're *my* true love, Mr. Frodo?" Sam's head was cocked to one side and his expression was fearful and hopeful at the same time.  
  
*Leave it to Sam to get right to the heart of the matter, * Frodo thought in wonder. And the courage that question required stole Frodo's breath away. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts. "I.. I suppose you'd noticed I have some feelings for you, too." Sam was nodding with a half smile on his face. Frodo blushed even more furiously than he ever remembered and almost felt like fainting. He plunged ahead anyway. " Very.. strong.. feelings. I've felt them for a long time. I thought you'd hate me for them and would leave here if you knew. And I couldn't bear to live without you." The last sentence was said so softly Sam had to strain to hear it. "I think it's probably safe to say I would like to be your true love, Sam." His fear, desire and longing were reflected clearly in his expression, though he didn't know it.  
  
Sam gaped at him, stunned by what he was hearing and also seeing in his master's face. "I.. I never thought.. you never said anything, so I wondered if you were teasing me. I wanted.. so very much.. " His eyes bored into Frodo's with an intensity the older hobbit had never seen before. Frodo watched with fascination as a myriad of emotions crossed Sam's expressive face in turn. He read astonishment, fear, hope and then finally joy. Everything seemed so clear suddenly. Frodo took a moment to wonder how things could have been so muddled for so long.  
  
Sam and Frodo looked at one another for a long moment, then reached for each other simultaneously. Never breaking eye contact, Sam sent his fingers slowly sliding up Frodo's arms and shoulders to find their way in the thick curls at the back of his neck. Frodo's hands touched Sam's face gingerly, as if he were spun glass, gazing transfixed into his eyes. The moment burned itself into Frodo's memory forever: the cold shadows contrasting with the warm light from the fireplace reflecting onto Sam's face; the smooth texture and coolness of Sam's skin as Frodo's hands traced along the cheekbones, ears; transitioning into warmth as his fingers sank into thick curls; the heat of Sam's breath, then the soft lips touching and moving slowly and sensuously against his own.  
  
This time there was no urgency, only the need to explore and savor. As Sam gently began to deepen the kiss, all the years of longing and yearning kept bottled up inside seemed to swell and gather in Frodo's chest, expressed in a sharp intake of breath that turned into a sob. Sam pulled back, concern etched into every line of his face. "Frodo? Are you.. ?" Tears fell from Frodo's eyes and he began to weep. Sam pulled him close and held him in a tight embrace that Frodo returned with surprising strength. After a few moments, he came to his senses to find himself in Sam's lap with no clear idea of how he'd gotten there.  
  
Frodo looked into Sam's eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry. I.. it's just that I've dreamed of this for so very long and never in my wildest imagination thought it might actually come true."  
  
Sam began to kiss away the tears. "I understand, Frodo. I've think I've wanted to be with you forever. I'm truly not ashamed of my feelings. I was just scared that you might send me away, what with me bein' a gardener and no gentlehobbit."  
  
"Oh, Sam. I would never..." Frodo drew back to look into Sam's face. Before he could finish his sentence, Sam put a finger on his lips to shush him and rested his forehead against Frodo's.  
  
"Never mind, me dear. I know that now. Let's get back to what we were doin', if you don't mind, sir."  
  
Frodo hesitated. "Um. Sam? Just what *were* we going to do? I'm not sure I know how..." Frodo hated to claim ignorance of anything, but here he felt completely at a loss.  
  
Sam's eyes had that glazed look again that Frodo now recognized as intense passion. All Frodo could do was gaze witlessly at him. Somewhere, deep inside, he was beginning to understand what it meant to be intoxicated with desire-maybe *pole axed* was a better description. Slowly, Sam brought his lips as close to Frodo's as possible without actually touching, then whispering just before their lips met, "I don't know either, Frodo. But I suppose we'll have fun finding out."  
  
Somehow they had ended up lying on the rug in front of the hearth. Frodo wasn't exactly sure how that had happened and didn't particularly care. He felt wonderful; the experience was more beautiful and exciting than anything he had ever dreamed or imagined. It was hard to believe that he had lived for years without knowing this joy. He looked down at the top of Sam's head where it nestled against his chest. Their arms and legs were tangled together and Sam was lying on top of him, deeply asleep. His weight was considerable, but Frodo didn't mind. He felt safe and very comfortable. Tightening his arms a bit around Sam, he pressed a kiss into the sandy curls.  
  
Involuntary tears of happiness ran from the corners of his eyes and into his ears. That was intensely irritating, so he disengaged a hand from Sam's hair to wipe them away. As he turned his head toward the hearth, his gaze was caught by something strange under the mantelpiece. It looked as if a coal had been placed into a small hole in the stone between the mantelpiece and wall. It was reflecting an orange light against the stone. Frodo lifted his head a bit and shifted slightly closer to the fireplace without waking Sam to get a better look. His jaw dropped open and his heart sank in shock. Placed in a small, previously unnoticed niche between the wall and mantelpiece was a small stone that was glowing with an orange light. The fire had died down enough so that the object could be clearly seen. With the fire going it would have been invisible.  
  
*Oh, no! So it was true! There *was* an Elvish love charm! But wait... why was it still glowing?* Horrified thoughts began to chase themselves around his head. *It was still glowing! That meant Sam wasn't his true love after all! I'm going to kill Pippin!* Frodo groaned and his head fell back to the floor, only to smack onto the slate of the hearth, not the soft carpeting. He had forgotten he had shifted to get a better look at the love charm and hit the area he had bruised earlier. Involuntarily grabbing his head, he cried, "OWOWOW!"  
  
Sam woke immediately. "Frodo! Are you hurt again?" His hands reached for his lover's head to cushion it as he began to slide off Frodo's body. Frodo clutched at him wildly to keep him from moving away for fear he would see the nasty glowing love charm. "No Sam, please don't move." Frodo forced a smile onto his face, not realizing how ghastly it looked.  
  
"Frodo, I must be squashing you. Are you sure you're all right?" Sam seemed dubious.  
  
"No, Sam, I'm fine, I just bumped my head a bit. I like having you on top of me-it feels good. You were wonderful, by the way." Frodo deliberately changed the subject and wrapped himself tighter around the younger hobbit.  
  
Sam gave him a sultry smile and smirked, "You weren't so bad yourself, Mr. Frodo, sir." Sam began to kiss him and to move his body in slow, rhythmic way that set both their hearts pounding. They had learned quite a few things in a very short time, and Frodo had the wit to be very grateful. Opening his eyes a bit during a particularly thrilling kiss, Frodo saw that the love charm was still glowing away in its little niche and began to hate himself. *What a way to start out a relationship-hiding something like this from Sam.*  
  
Breaking off the kiss, he pushed a dazed Sam back a bit by his shoulders. "I have a confession to make. I need to tell you something before we go any further."  
  
"Oh? How much further were you planning to go, Frodo? *Can* we go further?" Sam was confused but intrigued at that thought. Frodo stared up into Sam's dear face and tried to speak about the love charm, but no words would come. Sam expression began to become very worried.  
  
Frodo couldn't bring himself to say anything. *Maybe tomorrow,* he decided. Caressing his lover's face, he said simply, "Sam. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. I want to be with you always." Tears welled up and spilled over in Sam's eyes. Frodo wiped them away, smiling tremulously.  
  
Sam bent down to kiss Frodo with immense tenderness. As he pulled back slightly, Sam replied, "I love you too, Frodo, me dear. I love you more than anything or anyone in Middle Earth and I always will." As his mouth was claimed once again in an impassioned kiss, Frodo saw the love charm out of the corner of his eye. The orange light pulsed once brightly, as if winking at him, and went out. Frodo closed his eyes and melted once again, this time into Sam's embrace.  
  
Epilog  
  
Merry breezed into Pippin's room. He was visiting for a few weeks and staying with Pippin at Great Smials. Munching on an apple, he walked over to Pip, who was sitting on his bed, reading something in his hand.  
  
"What's that?" Merry sat himself down hard on the bed, causing the two of them to start bouncing a bit. Pippin laughed and stole a bite of Merry's apple before replying.  
  
"A letter from Cousin Frodo came in the post a few moments ago. You're just in time as I hadn't really started to read it yet. It's for both of us, actually."  
  
"Tell me what he says. He always writes interesting letters." Merry continued to eat his apple as he lounged on the bed.  
  
"It's rather short for some reason." He began to read.  
  
'Dearest Pippin and Merry,  
  
How are you? Things here are just fine as the weather has been good. It was very nice to see you and Merry when you visited and I hope you will come back soon.  
  
Pippin, thank you for the Elvish present. I found it a few weeks after you left. When I see you next, I will kick your arse from one end of Hobbiton to the other. We love you both very much. Hope to see you soon,  
  
Love, hugs and kisses, Frodo and Sam.'  
  
Merry started laughing and hooting, spraying apple all over the coverlet. Pippin's cheeks were flaming but he was also smiling. "So *that's* what you did with your great-great grandmother Whosit's Elvish love charm!! I wondered what happened to it! You charmed Sam!! Oh, you are evil!! Ha!"  
  
"Well, anyone with eyes in their heads could see that they were aching for each other but weren't willing to do *anything* about it! It was so frustrating! I just smoothed the way, as it were." Pippin realized he was rationalizing, but he didn't care. He was thrilled to discover that his oldest cousin had found true love at last, just as he had.  
  
Pip had never dreamed that the strangely decorated rock he'd taken to be an antique paperweight had true magical powers until it had begun to glow and Merry started acting in a very interesting way. Pip had found the translated Elvish inscription in the box the charm had been stored in for years and realized it's significance. It had worked beyond his wildest hopes and dreams; he had never been so happy in his life. And now Frodo had his Sam the way he had his Merry. Pippin's heart swelled with happiness. Life could not possibly be better at this moment.  
  
"It worked well enough for us; I just wanted to share the joy. But I don't think I'll be visiting Hobbiton anytime soon." He glanced over at Merry, who was smiling at him fondly on the bed. *Come to think of it, life could get just a *little* bit better. * He returned Merry's smile wickedly and bent to kiss the apple off of his lips. 


End file.
